I leave the two guys in my living room, too exhausted to care if they start fighting again. If I’m a grown, independent woman who can solve her own issues, then they sure as hell can solve their own too.
Numb, I go into my bathroom and strip down, carefully folding my uniform. Dazed, I stand under the hot water of the shower, letting it wash away the sweat of tonight’s performance and my makeup. Shocked, I pull on pajamas and fall into bed, where I immediately begin crying softly into my pillow.
I have really gotten myself into a mess this time.
Chapter 23
Griffin
I don’t want to leave, but one look at Dominic’s face tells me that staying is only going to make things worse. “I’m sorry, man, but I love her. I’ve always loved her. I’ve tried my hardest to stay away from her—for her sake, for your sake, fuck, for my sake—but I can’t do it anymore. I love her too much.”
“She’s who’s been fucking with your head?” He points toward Penny’s bedroom door, then at me. “Who you’re not worth?”
I dip my chin, agreeing, because tonight has made that abundantly clear to us both.
“Then be better for her.Fucking be better,” he tells me harshly, making it sound so damn easy. “Start by fixing this mess so she’s safe.”
It’s as much of a blessing as I’m going to get from him. It might also be a one-way ticket to my own ruin—which could be what he’s hoping for—but if there’s even the smallest chance that I can fix this, I’ll do it. I’ll do anything for Penny, and he knows it.
I leave, my decision already made. Johnny K hasn’t gotten back to me with any new information about the thief or the ring, and I can’t wait around any longer hoping he will. I have to go directly to the root of the problem.
The hostess at the stand inside Aqua Est Vita is a hockey fan. Or at the least, a Griffin Mahoney fan, because she doesn’t even flinch at my obviously not-to-dress-code sweats, Hawks T-shirt, and tennis shoes. Or my face that still looks like pulped hamburger.
“Griffin Mahoney! Oh my God, how can I help you?” she gushes.
I look past her, scanning the tables inside the restaurant, looking for one man. If he’s not here, I don’t know where I’ll go next. His residence is unlisted, likely one of dozens of properties he owns in the city, and his office is the same, possibly anywhere or simply wherever he and his laptop may be. But this restaurant is his haven. That’s a known fact.
I don’t see Miles Conniver himself, but I see a man in all black standing guard near a table in the back. That’s got to be his security, which means ... he’s here. Thank fuck.
I want to charge into the depths of the restaurant, slide into the chair across from Conniver, and demand he call off his dogs. But that’ll end up one way—with me thrown out the back of the restaurant, and then probably off the closest dock.
So I play it smart. One step at a time, with the first being getting closer to Conniver.
I lean down, keeping my voice between me and the hostess. One glance at her brass name tag tells me her name. “Amelia, I need one minute of Mr. Conniver’s time.”
Her smile all but evaporates. “Do you have an appointment with him?” she clips out crisply.
I flash the cocky smirk that’s led to many an opponent calling me a bastard. “I have something to discuss that he will be very interested in.”
Looking uncertain, she glances over her shoulder. “Oh, um, well ... he doesn’t see people without an appointment.”
“Just ask him. Please.” I could spill the whole thing to Amelia and see if her relaying the information to Conniver would get me an audience with him, but I think dangling an enticing carrot has a better chance. “Tell him it involves a diamond ring. A veryspecialdiamond ring.”
Amelia’s eyes widen, and though she still seems doubtful, she holds up a finger, telling me to wait one moment, and hurries toward Conniver’s table. I watch as she bends down, whispering to a man whose face I can’t see. He says something back to her, and she nods.
As she comes back, it takes every bit of willpower I possess to root myself to the floor and not cut the distance in half. Because her answer doesn’t matter. If he said yes, that’s where I’m headed. And if he said no? I won’t listen and that’s still where I’m headed.
“He said you have one minute,” she informs me, waving for me to follow her. As she leads me to Conniver, she informs me, “To be up front, I don’t think it’s because of any ring. You cost him a lot of money by getting kicked out of the game tonight. He had a personal wager riding on that game, I’m certain. So be careful.”
I appreciate the warning and give her a tight nod, thanking her. Five seconds later, I’m standing in front of the most dangerous man in the city. The one his own people fear. And I’m doing it voluntarily, serving myself on a silver platter like I have a death wish. But if it’ll save Penny, I will gladly make that sacrifice.
His crisp white shirt is open at the neck to show a gold chain that matches the rhinestone-encrusted watch on his wrist. Or hell, maybe those are diamonds too. His hair is perfectly coiffed, and there’s an air of ostentatious largesse surrounding him—thank you, long bus rides in the minor leagues, where I had to read books to fill the fucking time. But his expression seems bland enough, thankfully not openly furious over whatever bet he lost.
“Mr. Conniver, thank you for seeing me.” I’m not sucking his dick, but manners seem appropriate. He gestures to the seat across from him, and I sit down, mindful of the security guard standing just to the side.
“Mr. Mahoney, I understand you would like to discuss a ring. I, however, would like to know what happened on the ice tonight. And if I can expect it to happen again?” He arches a sharp brow, blatantly asking for insider information to shape his gambling on the Hawks’ next game.
“If you’ll give me a bit of leeway, I think you’ll see that the ring and tonight’s game are interwoven.”
